A SUDDEN CASE OF DEJA VU
by PoeticallyIncorrect1
Summary: When Briscoe & Curtis are involved in an accident, Briscoe can't help thinking about a similar accident.
1. Accident

A SUDDEN CASE OF DÉJÀ VU

**_Chapter 1_**

****

Friday November 14 

**_8:25pm_**

****

    It had started to rain heavily as Lennie Briscoe and Rey Curtis left the homicide scene to go and talk to the vic's next-of-kin.  "Can't hardly see a damn thing," Curtis complained as he pulled into the intersection, making sure that he had the green light.

    The dark gray car suddenly pulled out of the side street.  The driver was totally unaware of the red light as he entered the intersection.  Now, on a collision course with the detectives' vehicle, it struck the driver's side—hard.  Then it abruptly backed up and sped away in the opposite direction.

    They didn't see the car coming.  Curtis was intent on trying to see the rain slicked street.  The impact happened too fast for him to react.  Briscoe automatically braced himself as the car rolled to a halt in the middle of the intersection.  He looked over at his partner.  "Rey?  Rey!"  No answer.  Curtis was slumped against the window, blood pouring from a gash on his forehead.

    Briscoe was struck by a sudden sense of déjà vu as he flashed back to another eerily similar accident.  That time, he'd also been the passenger who could 'walk away'.  But this time, he was stone-cold sober.  "Rey?"  He reached out to touch Curtis' neck, relieved to feel a steady pulse.  "Thank God."

    Curtis moaned softly as he started to come to.

    Suddenly, there came a pounding on the passenger side window.  Briscoe looked out to see three teenagers standing by the car.  Reaching for his weapon, he cracked the window slightly and called out,  "What do you want?"

    "To let you know that we called 911," the older of the two boys said.

    "We've been behind that guy for about eight blocks, watching him drive erratically.  Amira copied down the license plate just in case something like this happened," the other one spoke up.

    A pretty Arabic girl leaned close.  "I've taken EMT training.  Is there anything I can do to help?"

    Briscoe looked at the three 'good Samaratins' and reached to turn on the overhead light.  "Thanks for calling 911."

    "What…happened?" Curtis asked, a little dazed as he started to sit up.

"We were in an accident," Briscoe replied.  He placed a hand on Curtis' shoulder.  "Don't move.  Help's on the way."

    "Okay," Curtis mumbled.  "Did I…hit someone?"

    "No, he hit us," Briscoe replied.  He looked at his partner's pale face.

    "That's good," Curtis mumbled as he slumped back against the window.

    "Rey!  Come on, stay awake!" Briscoe said sharply.

    "Drifting in and out of consciousness is common with a head injury.  Just as long as his pulse and respiration stay steady, he should be all right," Amira explained.

    "I'll keep that in mind.  You kids better stick around in case the police want to talk to you."

    "Sure.  No problem.  We'll just be in that Chevy Blazer over there,' the older boy said.  He nodded to his two friends.  In the distance, they could hear the sound of approaching sirens.

    The ambulance arrived and Briscoe got out of the car to let the paramedics examine Curtis.  Moving to the other side of the vehicle, he saw the damage done to the driver's side.  He shuddered, thinking again of that other accident.

    "Hey?  You okay?" one of the uniform cops asked.

    "Yeah.  I'm fine."  He watched the paramedics checking out Curtis.

    "Pulse 110, respiration's 26.  Let's get him out of the car and then get a BP.  Mike, hand me the C-collar," one of the paramedics was saying.

    Briscoe had gotten hold of a phone and was calling the 2-7.  "Lt. Van Buren, please."  
    "Van Buren "

    "Lieutenant, there's been an accident," Briscoe began.

    "What?  Are you and Rey all right?" she interrupted.

    "I'm fine.  The car plowed into Rey's side pretty hard.  The paramedics are checking him out.  I need you to run a plate number for me."

    "What is it?"

    "New York plates:  647ENG," Briscoe read off.  

    "I'll get it done top priority.  What hospital are they taking Rey to?"

    "Probably St. Vincents' since it's the closest.  I'll go check."  He turned to the paramedics.  "What hospital?"

    "St. Vincents'.  We'll be ready to transport in a couple of minutes," Mike replied.

    "St. Vincents'," Briscoe told Van Buren.

    "You ride along to the hospital and I'll meet you there.  We should know the owner of these plates by then."

    Briscoe returned the phone and headed over to the paramedics.  "I'm going with you."

    "All right.  But you have to ride up in front," Mike told him.  He slammed the doors and climbed behind the wheel.  "You okay back there, Kris?"

    "Yeah," she replied.  Mike hit lights and siren as they headed for St. Vincents'.

    They were halfway to the hospital when Curtis came around again.  Finding himself strapped to a backboard, he asked, "What happened?"

    "You were in an accident and now you're on the way to the hospital," Kris replied.

    "Don't want to…go to the hospital," he weakly protested.

    "Rey, no arguing!  You _are _going to the hospital," Briscoe said firmly.

    "Okay…Did you call…Deborah?" Curtis asked.

    "Not yet."

    "Don't.  She'll only…worry."

    "Let's wait and see how you're doing first," Briscoe suggested.

    Curtis had passed out again so Kris quickly checked his pulse.  Noticing Briscoe's worried expression, she said, "This is quite common with a head injury."

    "So, I've been informed.  How long until we get to the hospital?"

    "Another three, four minutes," Mike spoke up.

    At St. Vincents', Curtis was quickly taken to a trauma room.  Briscoe waited for Van Buren and paced the floor.  He'd tried to get into the trauma room but the door was firmly shut in his face.


	2. At the Hospital

A SUDDEN CASE OF DÉJÀ VU  
Chapter 2

8:45pm

    Curtis came around to find a doctor shining a light in his eyes.  He tried to reach up a hand to push it away.  The doctor was saying, "Pupils are round, equal and reactive."  He laid aside the flashlight.  "Think you can stay awake for us now?"

    "I think so.  Where's Lennie?"

    "That guy who rode in with you?  He's waiting outside.  And not very patiently, I might add.  When your x-rays come back, we'll see about getting you out of that collar," the doctor replied.

    "I'll be glad of that," Curtis admitted.

    "I thought you might be.  Now, can you answer some questions?"

    "Depends on what they are."

    "Question number one:  Can you tell me where you are?"

    "In a hospital.  Don't know which one."

    "Doesn't matter.  How about your name?"

    "Reynaldo Curtis.  But I go by 'Rey'."

    "Okay.  Last question.  What's today's date?"

    "November 14, 1997."

    "Okay.  You're pretty well oriented to place and time." the doctor said, making notes in Curtis' chart."

    "X-rays are back, Dr. Michaels," the Radiology tech said as she entered the trauma room.

    "Okay.  Let's take a look."  He took the films and put them up on the viewbox.  "Neck and spine look okay.  Is that a cracked rib on the left side?"

    "Could be," the tech answered.

    Michaels turned to one of the nurses.  "I want to get a head CT to rule out anything serious."  He walked over to Curtis.  "Neck looks okay.  How are you feeling?"

    "A little sick," Curtis admitted.

    "One of the many signs of a concussion.  I'll order an anti-nausea med.  Do you know if you're allergic to any of them?"

    "None that I'm aware of," Curtis replied.

    "I'll get you something and you'll be feeling better soon," Michaels promised.  He reached down to unfasten the C-collar.

    Van Buren finally arrived at the ER and hurried over to Briscoe.  "How's Rey?"

    Briscoe stopped his pacing to point to the trauma room.  "The doctors' still checking him over.  They won't tell me a damn thing.  Did you get the plate number ran?"

    "Belongs to Michael A Crestridge—1214 66th Street, Apartment 6G.  Dark gray 1996 Chevy Celebrity.  I'm running his name through the system and sending uniforms to his place to look for the car and check him out."

    "When they locate the guy, I want him brought to the 2-7 so I can have a little talk with," Briscoe began angrily.

    "Hold it, Lennie.  I can imagine what your little talk would be like," Van Buren interrupted.  She touched his arm.  How are you doing?"

    "What do you mean—'How am I doing?'  I'm okay.  I walked away.  Remember?" Briscoe snapped.  He moved over to the wall and leaned against it.

    "That's right.  You walked away and Rey didn't.  Just like _you _walked away from that other accident.  Lennie, it's not your fault that Rey got hurt."

    "I know.  At least I keep telling myself that."  He sighed and shook his head.  "I still need to go and talk to our vic's next-of-kin."

    "Give me your notes and I'll send Profaci and Newman to do that.  Have you talked to Deborah yet?"

    "No.  Rey doesn't want to worry her.  I said I'd wait until I found out how he is," Briscoe replied and handed over his notebook.

    "Probably a good idea."

    "I just wish they'd tell us something," Briscoe said.  He glanced over at the three teenagers who'd just walked in.  "Well, look who's here.  Our 'good Samaratins'.  They got the license plate number for us."

    "Hi.  We thought we'd see how your friend is doing," Amira said.

    "We're waiting for the doctors to tell us," Briscoe replied.

    "I'm Micah Summers and this is Mikey DeLaney and Amira El Fidel."  The older boy indicated to his friends.

    "You kids see the accident?" Van Buren asked.

    "Yeah.  We'd been following him ever since he left Mikes' Tavern," Micah replied.

    "Aren't you a little young to be hanging out there?" Briscoe asked.

    "My brother Jim works as a bartender there.  We hang out playing pool and drinking free root beers," Micah answered.

    Briscoe looked over at Van Buren and said, "Their story seems easy to check out."

    "Check out?  Hey, are you cops or something?" Mikey spoke up.

    Briscoe looked at the boy and pulled out his badge.  "That's right—we're cops.  I'm Detective Briscoe and this is Lt. Van Buren.  Our friend in there is Detective Curtis."

    "Wow," was all the younger boy could say.

    Micah looked a little concerned.  "If you talk to Jim, do you have to tell our parents we were there?" he asked.

    "Depends if it was really _root _beer that you were drinking.  How old are you?" Van Buren asked.

    "I'm nineteen and so is Amira.  Mikey's seventeen.  Look, Amira's dad is pretty strict and he'll be furious that I took her there."

    "We'll try and keep your names out of it.  But we may need you to ID the driver once we locate him and the car," Van Buren said.

    "Sure.  We'll do whatever we can to help," Micah said.  He exchanged glances with his friends.

    The door to the trauma room opened and Dr. Michaels stepped out.  "You can see Mr. Curtis for a few minutes."

    "How is he doing?" Van Buren asked.

    "He's conscious and alert.  But I want to run a few tests to rule out any serious head injury.  Right now, he's feeling a little nauseated and I've given him some medication for that."

    "You go in, Lennie.  I'll wait outside and talk to the doctor," Van Buren suggested, knowing that Briscoe was anxious to see Curtis.

    Briscoe nodded and pushed open the door.  Curtis was lying on the gurney with the head of it slightly raised.  His eyes were closed and he didn't look up as Briscoe moved close, asking, "How ya feeling?"

    "Not so hot," Curtis replied, opening his eyes.

    "I've got some good news.  The Lieutenant ran the plates of the car that hit us.  She's gonna bring the guy in for questioning."  He stood, looking at Curtis.

    "That's good.  Can you hand me my phone?" Curtis asked after a moment.  "It's in my jacket pocket."

    Briscoe did as requested.  "Gonna call Deborah?"

    "Yeah.  Just to let her know I'll be home late.  They want to keep me here awhile."  He dialed his home number.

    "Curtis residence," Deborah said when she answered the phone.

    "Sweetheart, I wanted to let you know that Lennie and I caught a new case.  So I probably won't be home until morning," Curtis lied.

    "Is that Daddy?" Olivia Curtis asked her mother.

    "Yes it is," Deborah told her.  She turned back to the phone.  "Olivia wants to talk to you."

    "Okay.  Put her on."

    Olivia happily took the phone and said, "Good night, Daddy."

    "Good night, Sweetness.  Now, hand the phone back to Mommy and go to bed like a good girl," Curtis told her.

    "Okay," Olivia said.  She handed Deborah the phone and skipped off to bed.

    "You know that she likes to talk to you every night."

    "I know.  Look, I'm sorry that I didn't call you sooner but something came up."

    "Rey?  What's going on?  You don't sound very good," Deborah asked concern in her voice.

    He sighed and decided to tell her the truth.  "Lennie and I were in an accident.  Look, he's okay but I've got a killer headache.  The doctors want to keep me here at the hospital awhile just to make sure I'm okay," he said tiredly.

    "What hospital, Rey?"

    "St. Vincents'.  You don't have to come here.  Please…  I can call you after the doctors finish running their tests," Curtis said.

    "I don't like this at all, Rey.  But I'll go along with your decision," Deborah finally said.

    "I'll see you in the morning, Sweetheart.  I love you."

    "I love you, Rey," Deborah said.  She hung up the phone and went to check on the girls.  Then she sat down to anxiously wait for him to call her again.

    Curtis handed Briscoe the phone and leaned back, closing his eyes.  "It's just too late at night for her to get someone to watch the girls and sit here awhile," he said.

    "Yeah.  It's probably best," Briscoe told him.

    Dr. Michaels reentered the room and said, "We're ready for your head CT, Mr. Curtis.  Is the nausea any better?"

    "Some.  I think whatever you gave me is starting to take effect," Curtis replied.

    "Well, I'll see you later, Rey," Briscoe said.  He patted his shoulder and left the room.

    Van Buren was still waiting outside.  "Well, I'd better get back to the 2-7 and see if Mr. Crestridge has been apprehended."

    "It you don't mind, I'd like to stick around here for awhile and see how that 'CT' or whatever turns out," Briscoe began.

    "I understand.  Stay here as long as you want, Lennie," Van Buren said and headed for the exit.  "Give me a call when you find out."

****


	3. Investigation & Arrest

A SUDDEN CASE OF DÉJÀ VU

Chapter 3

****

**_9:48pm_**

    The head CT had shown no signs of any injury.  It was pretty obvious that Curtis had suffered a concussion so Dr. Michaels had decided to admit him overnight for observation.  "We'll see how you're doing in the morning and go from there."

    "Can't you reconsider?" Curtis asked.  He'd reluctantly put on a hospital gown and was lying in bed.

    "Sorry.  I'll have someone bring you something for the pain.  And then they'll check on you in about four hours."  He stepped away from the bed and drew the privacy curtains.

    Briscoe had been standing nearby.  After the doctor left, he looked over at Curtis and asked, "Want me to tuck you in?"

    "Not funny, Lennie!" Curtis snapped.  "Where's my weapon?"

    "I've got it for safe keeping.  Hey, maybe I'd better take your clothes, too.  Just in case you try and break out of here." Briscoe suggested.

    "Can I at least keep my phone?" Curtis asked.

    "Yeah.  When you call Deborah, tell her that I'll pick you up in the morning." 

     "'If' they let me out in the morning," Curtis said and scowled.  He lay back and closed his eyes.

    "If you can't sleep and want to talk, just page me," Briscoe said.  He stood with his hands in his pockets.

    "I'd like to sleep if my head and my side ever stop hurting," Curtis told him.  He moved about, trying to get more comfortable.

    "Didn't the doctor say that he was going to give you something for the pain?  Well, I'm gonna head back to the 2-7 and see if any progress has been made in finding the car that hit us."

    "You do that.  I'd better call Deborah like I promised."  He reached for his phone.

    "I'll see you in the morning, Rey," Briscoe said and stepped out from behind the curtains.

    Curtis nodded, he was waiting for Deborah to answer.  When she did, he said, "The tests came out okay.  All I have is a cracked rib and a concussion."

    "That's good news, Rey.  I've been praying that you'd be all right," Deborah said, relieved.

    "I've been praying that I'd be okay."

    "When will you be home?"

    "Probably in the morning.  Lennie said that he'd pick me up," he answered.

    "You know I could do that."

    "I know.  He volunteered.   That way you won't have to worry about the girls.  They hospital has our number and they can call you if they need to.  But, I think I'll be fine."

    "I love you, Rey.'

    "I love you, Sweetheart.  I promise that I'll see you in the morning," Curtis said and closed his phone.

    "Excuse me, Mr. Curtis, but Dr. Michaels said that you were to take these," a nurse said as she pulled aside the curtains.

    "What is it?" Curtis asked, looking at the paper cup she held in her hand.

    "Tylenol 3's—Tylenol with codeine.  Dr. Michaels said that if you're better in the morning, he'll prescribe something stronger."  She handed Curtis the medication and filled the cup with water.

    "Can I get some sleep now?' he asked after he'd taken the medication.

    "For awhile.'  Since Curtis was the only patient in the Observation Unit at the moment, she dimmed the lights slightly.

    After convincing the ER to call him if there was any change in Curtis' condition, Briscoe headed back to the 2-7.  He'd managed to catch a ride with a couple of officers who'd brought in a drunk for stitches.  Seeing Curtis bleeding and unconscious 'had' shaken him up.  He fervently hoped that they'd catch the guy soon—and put him away for a long time.

    Van Buren was working in her office.  Noticing Briscoe enter the squad room, she motioned him over.  "Lennie, I've been waiting for your call."

    "I know.  I just left the hospital.  All Rey has is a cracked rib and a concussion.  The doctors decided to keep him overnight for observation and he's not thrilled about that.  Anyway, he's probably not feel like working for a few days, at least," Briscoe replied.  "Now, any luck in finding Crestridge?"

    I've had your car towed to the police garage and I've his description and plate number to every patrol car.  We'll find him sooner or later."

    I hope it's sooner.  If that guy was drunk, and it's a pretty sure bet that he is—then he's probably at another bar.  It's Friday night and he's blowing his paycheck."

    "We'll find him, Lennie," Van Buren repeated.  "You want to go to Mikes' Tavern and check out the kids' story?  Talk to Jim Summers?"

    "Yeah.  Beats sticking around here.  But, I think I can handle this alone," Briscoe said and turned to leave.

    "If you need any help—call for back up," Van Buren instructed.

**_10:25pm___**

    Briscoe pulled to a stop in front of Mikes' Tavern and sat for a moment, watching the cars.  After working with Curtis for so long, it felt odd, doing an investigation on his own.  Getting out of the car, he headed inside.

    Inside it appeared to be just another bar.  In one corner was a jukebox and nearby was a pool table.  'I'm Gonna Hire A Wino' was being played loudly.  He shook his head at the absurdity of Country and Western Music and headed for the bar.

    A young man in his twenties was behind the bar, pulling pints.  Looking up, he asked, "What can I get you?'

    Briscoe showed him his badge and asked, "Are you Jim Summers?"

    "Yeah?  What about it?" the young man asked.

    "Did you sell any alcohol to this guy?" Briscoe asked, showing a picture of Crestridge.

    "A couple of beers.  He was already drunk when he came in."

    "Were you aware that he was involved in an accident after leaving here?" Briscoe asked.

    "No.  Hey, my kid brother and two of his friends left right after he did.  He didn't hit them did he?" Summers asked, concern in his voice.

    "No.  Actually your brother and his friends witnessed the accident and gave his license plate number to the police."

    "I always tried to teach Micah to do the right thing.  Thank God that he and the others weren't involved.  "Was anybody injured?"

    "He hit a car with a couple of police detectives.  One's in the hospital with a concussion."

    "Damn.  I'm sorry to hear that.  Anything else?"

    "Just one more thing.  Was it _root _beer all you served to your underage customers?"

    "Root beer.  Micah and Amira are university students and don't have much money."

    "Okay.  I'll take your word for it.  If you see this guy back in here again, give me a call," Briscoe said and handed over his card.

    Summers took the card, sticking it in his pants pocket before going back to serving customers.

    Leaving Mikes' Tavern, Briscoe decided to check out a few of the bars in the neighborhood of the accident.

**_11:_****_47pm_**

    One of the uniform patrol cars had spotted the damaged vehicle parked outside a bar near Central Park.  They quickly reported it and the call then passed along to the 2-7.  Since the car it had hit had came out of the 2-7, it seemed only right that they get the collar. 

    Van Buren took the call, listened a minute and said, "I'll send someone to pick him up.  Just make sure that he doesn't leave."  She turned to Briscoe.  "Want to come with me and make the arrest?"

    "You don't have to ask me twice," Briscoe replied.

    Van Buren was at the wheel of the car when they stopped in front of the bar.  She flashed her badge at the uniform cops and asked, "He still in there?"

    "Yeah.  Getting drunker by the minute.  If you're here to arrest him, you're gonna need somebody to carry him out," the cop replied.

    "Let's go get him," she said and got out of the car, followed by Briscoe.  Together they followed the officer into the bar.

    "There he is."  He pointed to a tall man slumped in the booth in the far corner.

    "We'll take it from here," Van Buren said.  She saw Briscoe clenching his fists.  "We're going to do this nice and easy."

    "I'm following your lead."

    Crestridge looked up from his beer and said, "Hey, purty lady, why dontcha ditch that guy an I'll buy ya a drink?"  His words were badly slurred.

    "Depends on what you've got in mind.  Stand up," Van Buren ordered.

    "Why sure," Crestridge slurred and stood up unsteadily.  "Feels like the damn tiltawhirl at the carnival."

    "Read him his rights, Detective Briscoe," Van Buren said.

    "With pleasure, Lieutenant," Briscoe replied.  He quickly cuffed their suspect.  "Michael A Crestridge, you are under arrest for leaving the scene of an accident and driving while under the influence of alcohol.  You have the right to remain silent.  Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.  You have the right to an attorney.  If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided to you at no charge.  Do you understand these rights as I've explained them to you?"

    "Accident?  What accident?" Crestridge asked before passing out drunk.

    "See what I mean about getting someone to carry him out?" the uniform cop asked.

    "He's all yours, boys.  Just make sure you deliver him to the 2-7," Van Buren said.  She looked over at Briscoe.  "When we get done, the club sodas are on me."

    "You've got it, Lieutenant," Briscoe said as they headed back out to the car.  "I just wish that Rey had been here to help make the collar."

    "Me too.  But you can give him the good news in the morning."

    When they got back to the 2-7, it was apparent that Crestridge wasn't showing any signs of waking up soon.  "He'll probably be out of it for hours," Briscoe said disgustedly.  He looked at Van Buren.  "I think I'll go home and grab some sleep before I pick up Rey."

    "Goodnight, Lennie."  She was looking over the arrest report.  "I'll see you tomorrow."


	4. A Sleepless Night

A SUDDEN CASE OF DÉJÀ VU

**_Chapter 4_**

****

Saturday November 15 

**_3:48am_**

**_    Briscoe lay tossing and turning in bed.  _It all seemed to happen in slow motion…The middle of the intersection…The impact of the car….Dead silence…He looked over…Seeing the blood…Her deathly pale face…"Claire?"__**

    _Suddenly…Instead of seeing Kincaid…He saw Curtis…The blood running down his face…Staining the collar of his starched white shirt…He touched Curtis' neck…The relief at feeling the steady pulse…And the larger, almost guilty relief of not having to face Deborah…"God, not again," he prayed…Waiting for the ambulance._

    Briscoe suddenly sat up, his heart pounding.  'I don't need this again' he thought, blinking his eyes, slowly becoming aware of his surroundings.  The last thing he remembered was sitting on the couch and watching the late news.  Now a scantily clad model was extolling the virtues of the _abdominizer _or some such gadget.  Picking up the remote control, he switched off the TV.

    His body felt stiff from lying on the couch as he got to his feet.  He stumbled into the bathroom in search of some aspirin for his suddenly aching head.  Reliving the accident had left him feeling weak and shaky.  He had had nightmares and flashbacks for weeks after Kincaid's death and he fervently hoped that he wouldn't go through that again.

    After swallowing the aspirin and water, Briscoe splashed cold water on his face and looked at his reflection.  The man looking back at him was pale and unshaven.  After a few moments, he headed for the bedroom.  However, not to sleep; he knew from experience that it wouldn't happen.  Instead, he just waited for the morning—and the phone to ring.

    Curtis was also having a restless night.  He had finally gotten to sleep after the nurse had awakened him, when he felt the nausea returning.  "Damn," he muttered, as he lay in the bed, trying to fight it off.  After half an hour in which it just got stronger, he finally gave up and pushed the call button.

    A few moments later, a young nurse turned up the lights and pushed aside the curtains.  "What can I get you?" she asked.

    Curtis swallowed and said, "I'm feeling really sick to my stomach…"

    "I'll get you a basin," the nurse interrupted.  She quickly handed him one.  "Do you need any help?"

    He shook his head, closing his eyes against the bright light, still trying to fight off being sick.

    "I'll be back in a minute," the nurse said.  She dimmed the lights slightly.  A moment later she returned, hypodermic syringe and alcohol wipe in hand.  "I checked your chart.  Dr. Michaels left an order for compazine as needed."

    "That's good…" Curtis replied.

    The nurse quickly swabbed his arm and injected the medication.  "You should feel much better as soon as this takes effect," she said as she withdrew the syringe.  "If you need anything, just push the button."

    "Thanks…" He was still holding onto the basin and hoping he wouldn't need it.**__**

**_5:35am_**

    The nausea had finally subsided once the medication had taken effect.  Curtis had drifted into an uneasy sleep, his dreams fleeting and hazy.  When the lights of the Observation Unit were turned up bright, he was startled awake, his head pounding.  He groaned, blinking his eyes and wondering what time it was.

    Over by the next bed, a trauma doctor was giving instructions to the nurse.  "Be sure he's checked every four hours and call me if there's any change."

    "Yes, Dr. Whyte," the nurse replied.

    "Help me roll him!" the doctor exclaimed as their patient suddenly began to retch and vomit.

    The odor of vomit made Curtis want to gag.  He lay on his uninjured side, trying to ignore it, the hospital noises, and the lights.  All he wanted to do was just go back to sleep.

    As soon as the patient was resettled in bed and housekeeping summoned, the nurse went to check on her other patient.  "Are you all right, Mr. Curtis?" she asked as she pushed aside the curtains.

    He opened his eyes and gave her a weak smile.  "I will be if you tell me I can go home," he said.

    "Sorry, but I can't do that.  Dr. Michaels will be in at 7:00 and I will try to make sure that he sees you as soon as he can.  "Is there anything I can get you?"

    "A glass of water and something for a head ache," he answered.

    "All right," she said and hurried away.  Returning a moment later, she handed him the water and medication.  "As soon as housekeeping gets done, I'll dim the lights again.  I'm afraid the ER isn't the best place to try and sleep."

    "No, it's not," Curtis agreed.  He took the medication and sipped the water.  Then he lay back down, closing his eyes.  "Be glad when morning comes."


	5. The Weekend

A SUDDEN CASE OF DÉJÀ VU

**_Chapter 5_**

****

**_8:15am_**

**_    "How are you feeling this morning?" Dr. Michaels asked as he pulled aside the curtains._**

    "I've been better.  I'm okay," Curtis was quick to answer, sitting up in the bed.

    "Well, I see that you were nauseated and asked for pain meds during the night.  However, your neuro checks were acceptable.  Are you feeling nauseous right now?"

    "No."

    "Okay.  I'll have Kerry check you over and then I'll give you a couple of prescriptions for the pain and nausea.  Do you have somebody who can come pick you up?"

    "Yeah.  I'll give him a call when you release me."

    "I'll be back in a couple of minutes," Michaels said and went to check on the other patient in the Observation Unit.

    A moment later, the nurse approached his bedside.  "Feeling better this morning?"  She began to check Curtis' pulse.

    "Yes, I am."

    "That's good to hear."  She finished the rest of the examination.  "Pulse, BP, respiration, all seem to be within normal range."

    "Can I get dressed now?"

    "Let's wait and see what the doctor has to say," she suggested.

    The doctor returned a few minutes later.  "Well, Mr. Curtis, I'm going to go ahead and release you. I am also advising that you do not go to work for at least a week.  It is to make sure you are not experiencing any after effects from your concussion.  The headaches, dizziness and nausea can last at least that long.  However, if they worsen, or new symptoms develop; you need to get to a hospital right away.  You might have an injury that the CT didn't pick up on last night."

    "I'll keep that in mind," Curtis replied.

    Michaels handed him a prescription slip.  "Be sure and get this filled before you leave.  You can get dressed now while I fill out your discharge papers.  It would be best that you didn't stay by yourself for the next six to twelve hours."

    "I'll have my wife keep an eye on me," Curtis assured him.  As soon as the doctor left, he reached for his clothes that were hanging by the bed.  Noticing the blood on the shirt collar, he put a hand up to feel the bandage on his forehead.

    Curtis was fully dressed and sitting on the bed by the time Dr.Michaels returned.  He looked at his patient and said, "Well, I'll have you sign the discharge papers and get a list of instructions of what to watch out for and then you're free to go."

    "Finally," Curtis said.

    "Be glad to sleep in your own bed, I'll bet.  However, I'd like someone to check on you every so often."  He handed Curtis a pen and the chart.

    Curtis scribbled his name on the papers and handed them back.  "I'll call someone to pick me up."

    "All right.  Don't forget to get the prescriptions filled before you leave."

    Curtis took out his phone and dialed Briscoe's number.  "Come on," he muttered impatiently while he waited for his partner to pick up.

    "Briscoe here."

    "Lennie, you can come and get me.  The doctor said that it was all right for me to go home."

    I'll be there as soon as I can," Briscoe said.  He hung up the phone and went to get dressed.

    After hanging up the phone, he called Deborah.  "Hi, Sweetheart.  I've got good news.  The doctors are letting me go home this morning.  I just called Lennie and he'll be here to pick me up."

    "That's great to hear, Rey.  How are you feeling?" Deborah asked.

    "A little tired—I didn't get much sleep in the ER last night.  And I've got a headache.  But other than that, I'm okay," Curtis replied.

    Curtis had gotten his medications and was absently reading over the drug literature when he saw Briscoe enter the waiting room.  He stood up rather quickly and grabbed the back of the chair.  "Damn."

    As far as Briscoe could tell, Curtis didn't look much better than he had the night before.  "You all right, Rey?" he asked when he reached his side.

    "I'm okay.  I'll be glad when I can get home and go to bed," Curtis replied.  He picked up the pharmacy bag and literature.

    "I parked just outside the doors.  Hope I don't get a ticket," Briscoe said as he helped Curtis toward the exit.

    Once in the passenger seat, Curtis fastened the seat belt and leaned back.  "Home, James," he said in a lame attempt at humor.

    "Well, I see that bump on your head didn't help your sense of humor any," Briscoe commented as he pulled out into the street.

    "Did you ever find the car that hit us?" Curtis asked after a few moments.

    "As a matter of fact, we did.  When we went to arrest the driver, he was falling down drunk.  As soon as I drop you off, I'm heading back to the 2-7 to see if he's sober enough to talk to."

    "A guy like that doesn't belong on the street," Curtis stated, closing his eyes.

    Briscoe quickly drove toward Curtis' house.  He'd occasionally glance over at his partner, noticing that he looked pale and was keeping his eyes closed.  "Feeling sick?" he asked.

    Curtis nodded.  "A little.  Don't worry, Lennie.  I promise not to throw up in your car.  But, if I do, I promise to pay for the cleaning."

    "I'd rather you _didn't_ throw up," Briscoe commented.  Finally, he pulled into Curtis' driveway.  "Well, here we are."

    Curtis opened his eyes as soon as he felt the car stop.  He hastily unfastened his seatbelt and opened the door.  "Finally," he commented, getting out and standing unsteadily.

    "Come on, I'll give you a hand," Briscoe said, taking his arm and helping him toward the house.

    Deborah had been waiting on the porch.  She got and hurried toward the two men.  "Rey?"

    Curtis gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.  "Hi, Sweetheart.  Where's the girls?"

    "I called Kitty and had her take them to the park for a little while.  I wasn't sure how you'd be feeling up to being ambushed by the trio," Deborah said, smiling slightly.

    "Thank Kitty for me.  Right now, all I want to do is go lie down," Curtis replied.

    Deborah led the way to the master bedroom.  "Thanks for getting Rey this morning," she told Briscoe.

    Inside Curtis removed his jacket, tie and shirt.  Suddenly, he hurried to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.  Deborah looked after him with concern and Briscoe quietly explained, "He was feeling sick on the way over here."

    "Stay for some coffee, Lennie.  I want to talk to you," Deborah quietly told him.

    A few minutes later, Curtis emerged from the bathroom.  He glanced at Briscoe saying, "Could you please leave?  I'd like to finish getting undressed?"

    "Of course, Rey.  I'll talk to you later," Briscoe replied, heading for the door.

    "I want to talk to Lennie for a few minutes," Deborah added following him out.

    As soon as Curtis finished undressing, he pulled on a pair of pajama pants and crawled into bed.

    Deborah poured two cups of coffee, handing one to Briscoe.  "Okay, now tell me what Rey _isn't _telling me."

    Briscoe accepted the coffee.  "Ever have a concussion, Deborah?  I did once when I was drunk and didn't know any better.  The aftereffects—dizziness, nausea, headaches—can last up to five or six days later.  Just as long as they don't get any worse or new symptoms develop, he should be okay.  What time are the girls due back?"

    "After lunch."

    "That should give him some time to rest.  You might check on him in three or four hours just to see how he's doing," Briscoe advised.  He finished his coffee.  "I'd better be heading back to the 2-7 and see if the drunk driver has sobered up any."

    "Thanks again, Lennie," Deborah said.  

    "Partners watch out for each other.  I'm just glad that Rey wasn't injured any more seriously."  He got to his feet.

    "Me, too.    

**_11:45am_**

    Crestridge had finally sobered up enough for them to question.  Now, he was sitting at a table in one of the interrogation rooms.  He had folded his arms on the table and was resting his head on them.  Briscoe had been staring in the two-way mirror.  He turned to Van Buren.  "Now, he's feelin' the pain."

    "Just make sure that's all the pain he's feelin'," she warned.

    "You know me, Lieutenant.  I can be nice and gentle."  He pushed open the door to the interrogation room.  "I'd like him to be feeling the pain that Rey's been feeling."

    Crestridge glanced up asking, "What am I doing in here?"

    "You are under arrest for driving under the influence of alcohol and leaving the scene of an accident," Briscoe carefully pronounced each word.  "Want me to read your rights again?"  He stood staring down at their suspect.

    "I don't feel so good.  I think I'm getting the flu," he whined, turning pale.

    "Yeah, the _brown bottle _kind.  Looks to me like you've got a really bad case of it," Briscoe observed.  He grabbed the metal trashcan and set it front of the other man just in time.

    Once their suspect had stopped vomiting and was again resting his head on his arms, Briscoe leaned close.  "Now, you'd better listen up, you crap-for-brains.  And you'd better listen up good!  That car you hit last night just happened to have me and my partner in it.  He had to spend the night in the hospital because of you!  You're damned lucky that he wasn't seriously hurt or killed!  Because then I'd be advising his pretty young wife to sue you for so much that you couldn't even afford the toilet paper to wipe your sorry ass!"

    "Screw you!  I want my lawyer!" Crestridge got unsteadily to his feet.  He pulled back his arm to throw a punch.

    Briscoe shoved him back down.  "You wanna add 'assaulting a police officer' to your charges?  I'm sure I can easily accommodate you."

    Van Buren had been observing the interrogation and decided that it was time to interrupt it.  She knocked on the two-way mirror to get Briscoe's attention.

    "Anything else we can use to tie him to the accident scene?" he asked when he had stepped out of the room.

    "I just got the forensics report.  The paint on his bumper matches the car that you and Rey were in."

    "Great.  Another thing to tie this up.  I'll just go and give our suspect the news."

    "Lennie, don't let your enthusiasm get the better of you.  We don't need this guy released on a technicality," Van Buren warned.

    "Don't worry, Lieutenant.  The _last _thing I want to do is let this guy walk."  He entered the interrogation room.

    "Do I get my lawyer now?" Crestridge asked.

    "Yeah.  Someone will call him," Briscoe replied, pacing around the table.

    "It's about time.  Damned cops," the suspect muttered.  He suddenly turned pale and began to gag.

    "Don't _you _dare puke on me!" Briscoe warned.  He moved over to the speaker.  "We're going to need a clean up in here."

**_3:35pm_**

    Briscoe had made certain that Crestridge was being processed and waiting his turn before the judge.  He finished his paperwork and decided to head home for the weekend.  Arriving at his apartment, he threw some hamburger in a skillet to fix for a late lunch.  While it was cooking, he dialed Curtis' phone number.

    "Curtis residence."

    "Hello, Deborah, I was just calling to see how Rey is doing," Briscoe told her.

    "He was asleep last time I checked.  Isabel apparently decided to take her nap with him.  Do you want me to tell him that you called?"

    "No need.  I'll just call back later."

    "Okay, Lennie.  Bye."

Sunday November 16 

**_5:49pm_**

    Curtis was lying on the couch reading the newspaper when the doorbell rang.  He looked over at Olivia and said, "Please, go see who is at the door."

    She climbed on the step stool to look out through the peephole.  "It's Uncle Lennie!"

    "Go ahead and let him in, Sweetness," Curtis said.  He laid aside the newspaper.

    "Hi, Rey," Briscoe greeted him as soon as he entered the house.

    "Hi, Lennie.  Now, what brings you here?" Curtis asked.

    "I was in the neighborhood."

    "Liar," Curtis said, but there was no malice in his tone.

    "I thought I'd stop by and see your three—I mean four gorgeous ladies," Briscoe said, smiling at Deborah and the girls.

    "In this case flattery gets you an invitation to dinner, Lennie," Deborah said.  She looked over at Curtis.

    "And you just conveniently showed up at suppertime," Curtis commented.  He got to his feet.  "Come on, I'll show you where to wash up."

    "I made plenty," Deborah added.

    "Then how can I pass up your invitation?" Briscoe told her.  The smells coming from the kitchen were very tempting and he was starting to get hungry."

    "And you can't resist passing up a free meal.  Come on, Lennie," Curtis said, leading the way to one of the bathrooms.  "So, what really brings you here?"

    "To let you know that the drunk driver that hit us got charged."

    "Deborah said you called yesterday."

    "I did.  I was concerned about you.  You do look like you're feeling better."

    "I am—a little.  At least I can face eating now," Curtis admitted.  He tossed Briscoe a hand towel.  "Hurry up.  We don't want to keep Deborah waiting."

    By the time they entered the dining room, Deborah had the meal on the table.  "Olivia and Serena both want to sit by you," she told Briscoe.

    "I don't mind the fact that I get to sit by two pretty girls," he replied, taking his seat.

    Curtis sat down by Deborah and asked, "Okay, who's turn is it to say grace?"

    "My turn," Olivia answered, reaching out to take her father and Briscoe's hands.  She bowed her head.  "We thank You, God, for what we are about to receive.  Please keep Daddy and Uncle Lennie safe.  Amen"

    "Amen," the others echoed.  Curtis began passing around the platter of meat loaf.  

    They were halfway through dinner when Briscoe said, "I almost forgot that McCoy wants us for a witness prep session tomorrow."

    "The Bayland trial?  Damn, I forgot all about it," Curtis spoke without thinking.  He immediately saw the look of disapproval on Deborah's face.

    "Did you say a bad word, Daddy?"  Serena asked.

    "Bad Daddy," Olivia said solemnly and shook her fork at him.

    Briscoe suppressed a laugh as Serena added, "No dessert for daddy."

    "She's right, Rey.  You can't go setting a bad example for them," Deborah told him.

    "I apologize for what I just said and I promise not to say it ever again," Curtis said to his family.  He turned his attention back to his plate.

    "An excellent meal, Deborah," Briscoe complimented her.  He helped himself to more scalloped potatoes.

    "Thank you, Lennie."  She was wiping up Isabel's spilled milk.

    "So, who's helping you investigate that last case we caught?" Curtis asked.

    "Nobody.  The Lieutenant tossed it off to Profaci and Newman.  By the time you get back to work, there'll be a new one for us."

    "I don't doubt that," Curtis commented.

    About ten minutes later Deborah got to her feet.  "Time for dessert," she announced and headed for the kitchen.  She returned a moment later carrying a baked apple crisp. 

    "Da-arn, that's one of my favorites," Curtis said when he saw the crisp.

    "I think I'll pass on the dessert.  I'm already stuffed," Briscoe told her.

    "You don't have to give up 'your' dessert on my account, Lennie," Curtis said.

    "No, I really am stuffed.  Deborah is too good a cook."

    "If the girls say anything they shouldn't, losing dessert is part of the punishment," Curtis told him.

    "What's the rest of the punishment?" Briscoe asked.

    "A spank.  Fortunately, I'm too big for that."

    "Are you sure, Daddy?" Serena asked.

    "Finish your dessert," Curtis said, ruffling her hair.  "Lennie and I have some things to talk over."  He got to his feet and headed for the living room.

    Briscoe nodded and followed Curtis.  He settled himself in the easy chair.  "Have you heard from the Lieutenant yet?"

    "L.T. called earlier today.  She said that I could go back to work on Thursday.  But I probably won't be out on the streets for at least another week."

    "Desk work.  That's not so bad."

    Serena finished her dessert and slid out of her chair, heading for the living room.  Sneaking up behind her father, she gave him a quick swat on the back of his legs.  

    "I said that I was too big to be spanked," Curtis laughed.  He picked her up and swung her around.  He moved too fast, however, and felt the room spinning.  Moving to the couch, he fell back onto it, still holding onto Serena.

    "Do it again," Serena laughed.

    "Not right now," he said.  He still felt dizzy and closed his eyes.  "Run along and help Mommy."

    "Okay.  Bye, Uncle Lennie," Serena said and scurried away.

    As soon as they were alone, Briscoe looked over at Curtis.  "Are you okay?"

    "Yeah, I just felt a little dizzy.  I guess I shouldn't have moved that fast," Curtis assured him.

    "Maybe I should call McCoy and have him cancel the prep session.  You probably know what you'll say when he puts you on the stand," Briscoe said after a moment.

    "No, I'm okay.  But, you might drive tomorrow just in case the dizziness returns," Curtis replied.

    "No problem.  The session is at 10:00 so I'll pick you up at 9:15.  That way, we won't be late if we get stuck in traffic like last time."

    "Yeah, I'll see you in the morning."

    Deborah stood in the doorway.  "Lennie, can you come here a minute?" she asked.

    "Sure, what do you want?" Briscoe asked.

    "Deborah led the way to the kitchen.  "I fixed you some leftovers and your apple crisp.  I made plenty and Rey and the girls probably won't eat that much."  She handed him several tupperware containers.

    "Thanks, Deborah.  That'll make me a pretty good dinner tomorrow," Briscoe said.

    The girls were nowhere in sight so Deborah lowered her voice.  "Rey can have his dessert after everyone's gone to bed.  I'm just to see him feeling like eating today."

    "Like I told you, it'll take him a few days to feel like his old self."" He headed for the living room.

    "Gee, Lennie, did you leave _anything _for the rest of us?" Curtis asked when he saw the containers.

    "Ask Deborah.  I'll see you at 9:15," Briscoe replied, letting himself out the door.

****


	6. Unsettling News

A SUDDEN CASE OF DÉJÀ VU

**_Chapter 6_**

****

Monday November 17 

**_9:15am_**

    Curtis had spent the morning helping with the girls, getting them dressed and having breakfast. He helped Olivia spend fifteen minutes trying to find her math book and the seashells she wanted to take for show & tell. That had been just in time for the bus to show up.  Giving him a quick kiss, she dashed out the door to sit with her best friend Jo.

    Once the bus had left, Curtis headed for the couch with the newspaper.  He hadn't gotten to read very much when Serena showed up.  She was proudly clutching her play doctor's kit and had the stethoscope around her neck.  "Time for an examnation, Daddy," she announced.

    "Okay, _Dr.Curtis_," he said, putting aside the newspaper and unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt.

    Serena placed the stethoscope against his chest and frowned.  "Uh-oh.  This is not good.  You have no heartbeat."

    "You have it in the wrong place," Curtis said, repositioning it.  "Now listen."

    "That's better," she said, listening.  Take your temperature now."  She stuck the toy thermometer in his mouth, pretending to take his pulse.

    When she removed the thermometer, he asked, "Is everything okay?"

    "Say ah," Serena instructed, sticking a Popsicle stick in his mouth.  "Not good.  Tonsils need out.  Operation very soon."

    "Maybe I should get a second opinion," Curtis suggested. 

    "Wait right here."  Serena hurried away.  Finding Deborah in the kitchen, she asked, "Can I have a lollipop?"

    "Not now.  Maybe later," Deborah replied, washing dishes.

    "It's for Daddy," Serena confided.  "He makes a better patient that Isabel."

    "In that case, you can give him one," Deborah said, getting down the jar of candy and selecting a watermelon lollipop.  

    Isabel saw the lollipop and said, "Want one."

    "Not for me.  For Daddy," Serena told her.

    "Want one," Isabel repeated.

    "She doesn't believe you."  She reached into the candy jar again and pulled out two more lollipops.  "Go give your father his and then you can have yours," she instructed Serena.

    Curtis had picked up the newspaper and was reading it when Serena returned.  She held out the lollipop, saying, "For being such a good patient."

    Curtis took it and stuck in his shirt pocket.  "Too bad my other doctor doesn't hand out candy."

    "I'm a special doctor," Serena said, sitting down on the couch beside him.

    "I think you mean _specialist_.  But you are my own _special _doctor," he replied, ruffling her hair.

    Serena suddenly jumped up, saying, "Mommy said that I could have a lollipop."

    "Okay.  But don't let it spoil your lunch."  He watched her scurry toward the kitchen.

    After a minute he got to his feet and followed her.  Seeing Deborah finishing up the dishes, he asked, "Anything I can do to help?"

    "I've about got it finished.  What time did you say Lennie was coming by?"

    "9:15.  This whole prep session shouldn't take a lot of time," Curtis answered.  He watched the two girls contentedly sucking on the lollipops.  "You might as well help yourself, Deborah."

    "Maybe later."  She lowered her voice.  "Are you sure you're feeling up to this?"

    "I'm fine, Sweetheart.  Besides, Lennie's doing the driving," Curtis assured her.

    Briscoe showed up a few minutes before the scheduled time.  Ringing the doorbell, he waited for someone to answer.  When Curtis finally opened it, he said, "Morning, Rey.  How ya feeling?"

    "I'm okay, Lennie.  In fact, I got a mostly clean bill of health from Dr. Curtis.  She did say I need my tonsils removed," Curtis replied.  "Come on in."

    "_Dr. Curtis_?" Briscoe asked curiously.

    "Yeah, Serena.  Ever since she got that play Doctors' kit for her birthday, she's been looking for patients to practice on," Curtis replied, laughing.  "At least she waited until I was feeling better to practice on me."

    "Good morning, Lennie," Deborah said.

    "Morning, Deborah."

    "Want a lollipop, Uncle Lennie?" Serena asked.

    "Not right now."

    "Just let me get my jacket and I'll be ready to go," Curtis said, opening the closet door.

    "I'll see you later," Deborah said, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

    "Bye, Sweetheart," Curtis said, returning the kiss.  Pulling on his jacket, he knelt down to receive kisses from Isabel and Serena.  "Be good girls for Mommy."

    "Bye, Daddy," Serena said, giving him a hug.

    "Bye, girls," Curtis said.  He followed Briscoe out the door.

**_9:55am_**

    Arriving at the judicial building, Briscoe was lucky enough to find a spot on the ground floor of the parking garage.  Then he and Curtis entered the elevator to take to the floor that Executive ADA Jack McCoy's office was on.  McCoy's assistant, Jamie Ross was the only other person to get on the elevator.  "Hi, Lennie, Rey.  I heard about the accident," she said.

    "Probably _everybody_ has by now," Curtis commented, absently rubbing the bandage on his forehead.

    "Drunk driver ran a red light.  I hope that whoever's prosecuting the case throws the book at him," Briscoe stated.

    "That would probably be Mike Henally.  He handles a lot of these cases," Jamie replied.

    "Do you ADAs all know each other?" Briscoe asked.

    "No.  But when I was defending _the scum of the Earth _I had a couple of clients up against him."

    "I'm glad you're on _our _side now, Miss Ross," Curtis admitted.

    "Me too.  But I did make pretty good money back then."

    Arriving at McCoy's floor, they headed directly for his office. He, too, had heard about the accident.  Right now, his main concern was that Curtis would be able to take the stand on Wednesday as scheduled.  Although the prep session had been set up several weeks previous, he was planning to use it to get an idea of Curtis' physical condition.

    "Right on time," McCoy said when they entered the office.  "How are you, Rey?"

    "I'm fine," Curtis replied.  He headed for the couch, pushing aside several magazines in order to sit down.  "I'm just tired of everybody asking me _that _question."

    "I heard you had to spend the night in the hospital," McCoy said.

    "That was just a precaution.  They let me go home the next morning," Curtis pointed out. 

    "So, when are you going back to work?" McCoy asked.

    "Thursday.  So, I've got all day Wednesday to be in court."

    "We'll get started in just a few minutes," McCoy told him.  He picked up a sheet of paper and handed it to Briscoe.  "I just found this out this morning."

    Briscoe quickly read it over and swore.  "Damn!  I don't believe this!  They let the crap-for-brains go!"

    "What?" Curtis asked.

    "Crestridge!  Some idiot judge with even less brains let him out on bail!" Briscoe snapped.  He turned to McCoy.  "You'd think that hitting a car and nearly killing a cop would be enough to keep him behind bars?"

    "I had _nothing _to do with that!" McCoy snapped back.

    "Would it have been better if Rey had been seriously hurt or even killed?  Would that be enough to keep him behind bars?  You could charge him with vehicular 'manslaughter' or_ homicide_?!" Briscoe continued yelling.

    "Enough!  All your shouting is giving me another damn headache!" Curtis snapped.  He got to his feet and stalked out the door.  "I'll be back in when you quiet down."

    Oblivious to the fact that Curtis had left the office, McCoy shouted back at Briscoe, "For your information, just because a drunk driver kills someone—it doesn't mean they get a _long _prison sentence!"

    "Yeah?  Well, they sure as hell deserve it!"

    "You become a judge and then you can make the ruling!" McCoy snapped.  He stared a Briscoe.  "He'll do his time, say he's been _rehabilitated _and that he's sorry.  Yada, yada, yada.  Then six months or a year now, some poor bastard or kid will pay the price because the system let him go."

    Briscoe silently listened, not sure if McCoy was referring to the man who'd killed Claire or if he meant Crestridge.  "Hell of a legal system we've got here, McCoy."

    "Yeah, I can agree with you on that.  Fortunately, it works most of the time," McCoy commented.  He looked around the office.  "Now where did Rey disappear to?"

    Curtis sat down in the chair by Jamie's desk and rubbed his temples.  "Damned headache," he muttered.

    Jamie silently followed him out of the office.  She moved over to the water cooler and brought back a cup of water.  Handing it to Curtis, she said, "I'll get you a couple of aspirin."

    "Thank you, Miss Ross," he replied, taking a sip of the water.

    Jamie quietly studied Curtis while she searched her desk drawers for the bottle of aspirin.  "Don't mention it.  They'll quiet down—soon.  I hope."  She handed him two aspirin tablets.

    Curtis quickly swallowed the aspirin and rubbed his forehead.  "If you don't mind, I think I'll stay out here until it's safe to go back in."

    About three or four minutes later, Jamie opened the door to McCoy's office.  "Are you through yelling at each other?"

    "Yeah, we are.  Have you any idea where Rey is?" McCoy replied.

    "He's waiting by my desk.  I'll tell him that it's safe to come back in now," Jamie answered, closing the door.

    Curtis had already gotten to his feet.  "I heard.  If they start yelling again, I may be back out," he told her.

    Briscoe was studying the shelves of law books with obviously feigned interest.  McCoy was shuffling papers on his desk.  He looked at Curtis.  "Have a seat by the desk."

    Curtis sat down, placing his arms on the desk.  "What exactly was 'that' all about?"

    "McCoy and I had a difference of opinion—we worked it through," Briscoe answered.  He glanced at his watch.  "If you don't mind, I'm gonna go check out a couple of things.  I should be back in half an hour, 45 minutes at the latest."

    "Go on ahead, Lennie.  We should be finished by then," Curtis replied.  

    McCoy had sat down at his desk.  "I need to know exactly what you're going to say on the stand," he began.

    "The, truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth," Curtis replied.

    "I know that.  Now, your search warrant was for _all_ of Neal Bayland's property?"

    "It was.  Lennie and I were searching the basement.  I walked into the bathroom.  That's when I discovered the second body," Curtis patiently explained.

    McCoy made notes on a sheet of paper.  "Was the bathroom door opened or closed?"

    Curtis thought for a moment.  "Open.  I remember the light was on and I looked in.  Mary Spangler was lying in the bathtub, partially clothed.  I immediately went to find Lennie and call for a crime scene unit."

    "Okay.  Bayland's lawyer will probably ask if you opened the door.  According to your police report, it was open.  I doubt Bayland was expecting the police to show up with a search warrant," McCoy commented.

    Leaving McCoy's office, Briscoe headed for the 2-7 to see if Van Buren had heard about Crestridge.  Storming into her office, he asked, "Did you know that the crap-for-brains made bail?"

    Van Buren looked up from the reports she'd been reading.  "Calm down, Lennie.  I'm assuming that you are referring to Crestridge.  Yes, I found out a little while ago.  Does Rey know about it?"

    "Yeah, McCoy sprang the news on me at his office, so Rey knows."  He took a seat by her desk.

    "How's he taking the news?"

    "It didn't seem to bother him.  McCoy and I got into a shouting match over it.  I told Rey I had some things to do and I'd be back in about half an hour," Briscoe answered.

    "Okay.  I'll see what I can find out.  Go grab lunch after you take Rey home.  Then, we'll sit down and decide what to do," Van Buren said after a moment.

    "Sure.  I'd better get on back to Hogan Place," Briscoe said, getting to his feet.

    "Tell Rey that I'm glad he's feeling better," Van Buren said.  She turned her attention back to the reports.

    When Briscoe got back to McCoy's office, he found Curtis sitting by Jamie's desk, reading a magazine.  "You all ready to go?" Briscoe asked.

    "Yeah, I'm ready."  He reached for his jacket.  "I'll see you later, Miss Ross."

    "Bye, Rey," Jamie said.

    Outside in the car, Briscoe looked over at Curtis and asked, "What would Deborah had done if you'd been seriously hurt or killed?"

    Curtis thought for a moment.  "If I couldn't work anymore—then I'd probably go on disability or find something that I probably could do.  As for being killed, I've made sure that Deborah and the girls are 'very' well provided for by my life insurance policy.  It's one thing that we both insisted on when I decided to become a cop.  Besides, Deborah has family money from one of the Indian casinos."

    "Yeah, no wonder you can afford those fancy suits on your salary," Briscoe commented sarcastically.

    Curtis sighed and said, "If you don't mind, Lennie.  I'd just like to get on home."

    "Okay.  Want me to pick you up on Wednesday?"

    "No.  I'll get Deborah to drive me," Curtis decided.

    "Okay.  If you change your mind, give me a call."

    "I'll think about it."

    The rest of the drive to Curtis' house was taken mostly in silence.  Briscoe pulled into the driveway.  "I'll see you Thursday, then." He said.

    "Yeah, Thursday," Curtis replied, getting out of the car.  He noticed that Deborah's car was missing, he headed on inside.  A notice was attached to the refrigerator and he quickly read it over.  _Rey_, _I've taken the girls out for lunch before taking Serena to kindergarten.  We'll be back in a couple of hours.  Leftovers in fridge.  Love you,_ _Deborah_

    "Love you, too, Deborah," Curtis said softly.  He stuck the note in his pocket and opened the refrigerator door.


	7. Taking It One Day At A time

A SUDDEN CASE OF DÉJÀ VU

**_Chapter 7_**

****

**_2:45pm_**

    Deborah pulled into the driveway and then set about unbuckling Isabel's car seat.  "Let's see if Daddy's home so he can help us."

    "I can help," Isabel declared.

    "I know you can, Sweetie."  She handed her a bag with several skeins of yarn.  Grabbing up her purse, she headed for the house.  Isabel followed her, dragging the bag of yarn.

    Finding the front door unlocked, Deborah pushed it open.  "Rey?  Rey?"

    Curtis was in his study, seated at the computer.  He'd been lost in thought, staring at the screen saver.  Hearing Deborah's voice, he slowly got to his feet.  "I'm coming."

    Inside the living room, Isabel held up the slightly torn bag of yarn and proudly announced, "I carried it myself."

    "Rey, could you please put Isabel down for her nap and then help me with the groceries?" Deborah asked.

    "Sure," Curtis replied.  He swept Isabel up in his arms.  "Sleepy time."

    "Sing the 'Barney' song," Isabel instructed.

    "Okay."  He carried her toward her bedroom.  "I love you—you love me…"

    "How'd it go this morning?" Deborah asked as soon as he returned to the living room.

    "Okay, I guess.  I told McCoy what I was gonna say on the stand.  Then Lennie drove me back home," he said briefly.  "Let's go get the groceries."

    Since it was obvious that he wasn't going to say anything more, Deborah guessed that his morning hadn't gone so well.  "Did you have any lunch?" she asked as she followed him out to the car.

    "Wasn't hungry."  He pulled out a heavy bag and picked it up.  "Looks like you bought enough."

    "I'm getting some things for Thanksgiving dinner," Deborah replied.  "And making a cheesecake for the bake sale."

    "Sounds good."  He reached to grab a smaller bag.

    When all the bags were setting on the kitchen counter, she said, "As soon as everything gets put away, I'll make you a sandwich."

    "I said that I wasn't hungry," Curtis told her.  He sighed and rubbed his forehead.

    "Headache?" Deborah asked quietly.

    "Yeah.  Be glad when I don't have them," he answered.

    "Sit here," Deborah ordered, pushing him down on the stool.  Standing behind him, she began massaging his temples.  "Feel better?"

    "A little.  I could have you do this _all _day," Curtis replied, closing his eyes.

    "Well, we do have a little while before the girls get home."  She massaged his temples for a few more minutes before moving her hands to his shoulders.

**_4:15pm_**

    The bus from St. Andrews' Academy arrived and both Serena and Olivia got off.  They hurried into the house, eager to share their day with their parents.

    Serena had been learning about the letter H.  She had pictures of horses and houses and two strings of heart shaped beads around her neck.  "See what I made today.'  She proudly held out a string of pink and purple beads.

    "That's very pretty.  Did you make the other one?" Curtis asked.

    "No.  Mikey Konrad gave it to me.  Said I was his_ girlfriend_," Serena replied.

    "Serena's got a boyfriend," Olivia said, singsong.  She was busy hanging up her jacket.

    "How was your day?" Curtis asked Olivia.

    "Everybody liked the seashells.  Jeffery tried to take one but Miss Hayes made him give it back.  I need to practice my times tables tonight."

    "Okay, I'll help you with them," Curtis told her.  Now, go put on your play clothes."

    Serena was holding up her string of pink and purple beads.  Placing it around his neck, she said, "You can have these, Daddy."

    Deborah stifled a laugh as she said, "I don't think these are exactly your colors, Rey."

    "Tell you what, Bunny, why don't you give them to Isabel?" Curtis suggested.

    "She'd just break the string," Serena pointed out.

    "I'm sure she'll be careful."  He removed the beads from around his neck.

    "All right."  Serena reluctantly took them and went in search of her younger sister.

**_6:00pm_**

    "If you don't mind, I think I'm going to head home to Katie," Jamie said, stepping into McCoy's office.

    "Go on ahead," he replied, not looking up from the file on his desk.

    "Going over opening arguments for tomorrow?"

    "Not exactly.  Briscoe and Curtis' accident got me thinking about a few things."

    "Claire Kincaid?" Jamie asked quietly.

    "Part of it.  You know, I was pretty well drunk that night she died.  In fact, Briscoe didn't start drinking until I left the bar.  He offered to give me a ride home but I decided to take a cab instead.  I sometimes wonder--would Claire still be alive if I'd just taken up on his offer?"

    "You can't change what happened, Jack.  Much as we'd _all _like to, we can't turn back time."

    "I know," he said, handing Jamie the file.

    She glanced at the name on it—Michael Andrew Crestridge.  "Isn't that the drunk driver who hit Briscoe and Curtis?"

    "The one and the same.  Take a look but I guarantee that it's not cheerful reading."

    She quickly scanned the file.  "In '93' he nearly killed a young girl in Beverly, Massachusetts?" she asked.

    "I made a couple of phone calls.  "The girl is severely brain damaged and will need specialized care for the rest of her life."

    "Makes you wonder why we let a person like that back behind the wheel of a car."

    "Yeah.  Rey's damn lucky that he wasn't hurt any worse than he was," McCoy told her.

    Jamie handed back the file.  "I'll see you in court tomorrow."

**_7:30pm_**

    Deborah had given Isabel her bath and gotten her into flowered pajamas.  Curtis picked up and carried her off to bed to hear her prayers and have story time and 'nite-nite' kisses.  He tucked her into bed and then sat on the edge of it.  Isabel solemnly folded her hands, bowed her head and closed her eyes.  "God bess Dada, Mama, Srena  Olivya, and Uncle Ennie.  God, keep me safe.  Ahm."

    "Very good, Sweetie," Curtis told her.  "Tonight, I'll read 'Goodnight, Moon'.  He picked up the book and began reading, his voice getting softer and softer as he reached the end.  

    "G'nite, Dada," Isabel said softly, giving him a kiss on the cheek.  She lay back down and closed her eyes.

    "Goodnight, Sweetie," Curtis said softly.  He brushed her hair off her face and gently kissed her forehead.

    Serena had decided that she was too old for that 'baby' book.  "Read this," she announced, holding out a book about kittens.

    "Okay.  But prayer time first," he gently reminded her.  "And be quiet or you'll wake your sister."

    Serena nodded, folding her hands, bowing her head and closing her eyes.  "God bless Mommy, Daddy, Olivia, Isabel and Uncle Lennie.  God, keep me safe and help me to be good.  Amen." She said quietly.

    "Curtis smiled and ruffled her hair.  "You be a good Bunny for me," he said and started to read about four little kittens.

    "I'm _always _good," Serena stated.  She gave Curtis a quick kiss on the cheek.  "Goodnight, Daddy."

    "Goodnight, Bunny," he said, kissing her forehead.  Making sure that the nightlight was on, he left the room.

    Olivia had gotten herself ready for bed.  She was sitting cross-legged on it, telling herself the times tables.  When Curtis entered her room, she looked up and asked, "Can I stay up just awhile longer?  Miss Hayes said she'd have a surprise for who ever could do the most times tables tomorrow.  I can almost say all my elevens and twelves now."

    "You know it's bedtime.  I didn't give your sisters any extra time so it wouldn't be fair to let you stay up later.  You can get up half an hour early in the morning to practice the times tables," Curtis told her.

    "All right," Olivia reluctantly agreed.

    "That's my Sweetness.  Now for prayers and do you want a story?"

    "Not tonight, Daddy," she said, climbing under the blankets.  She too folded her hands, closed her eyes and bowed her head.  "God bless, Mommy, Daddy, Serena, Olivia, Miss Hayes, Uncle Lennie, and all the people at school and at church and Daddy's work.  God, keep me safe.  Amen."

    "That's quite a big list, Sweetness.  But God can bless _all _of them," Curtis told her.

    "Goodnight, Daddy," Olivia said, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

    "Goodnight, Sweetness," Curtis said, kissing her forehead.  "When I check on you later, I want to find the lights out."  He headed for the door.

    Deborah was sitting on the couch, balling up the yarn she'd bought.  Seeing Curtis enter the living room, she asked, "The girls asleep yet?"

    "Isabel and Serena are.  Olivia wanted to stay up and practice her times tables.  I told her that she could get up half an hour earlier," he replied, sitting down beside Deborah.

    She put aside her yarn and turned to face him.  "Rey, tell me how your meeting went this morning," she said gently.

    Curtis wrapped an arm around her shoulders.  "Lennie and McCoy got into a big argument over the accident.  I ended up waiting outside for them to quiet down since their yelling was giving me a headache." He explained.

    "Are you sure about going back to work so soon?" Deborah asked.

    "You don't need to be so worried about me.  Lennie will drive me to and from work and I'll probably be doing desk work for a least a week," Curtis assured her.  He picked up the remote control.  "I wonder if there's anything good on television."

    Deborah reached up to stroke his face.  "I have a better idea," she said softly and whispered in his ear."

    "I _really _like your idea," Curtis replied, grinning.  He tossed aside the remote and stood up, reaching to take her hand.

    "I'll get the water running in the tub," she told him, a flirtatious look in her eyes.

Tuesday November 18 

**_3;48am_**

    The crash of thunder awakened Curtis and he lay listening to the violent thunderstorm.  Beside him, Deborah lay peacefully sleeping, undisturbed by nature's fury.  A particularly loud crash of thunder followed a flash of lightning that lit up the bedroom.  "That sounded 'too' close," he said to himself.

    A moment later he heard pounding on the door and Isabel's plaintive voice.  "Dada, me scared."

    "I'm coming, Sweetie," he said and reached over to gently shake Deborah's shoulder.  "Wake up."

    "Wha?" she mumbled half asleep.

    "I think we're about to have company in bed.  The storm woke up Isabel and probably the others," Curtis told her.  He was already getting to his feet.

    Deborah sat up as Curtis opened the bedroom door.  He was unsurprised that Serena and Olivia had also joined their sister.  

Isabel, clung to him, sniffling and he picked her up, stroking her hair.  "Hush, hush, Sweetie.  There's nothing to be afraid of.  You're safe now," he said softly.  He laid her down beside Deborah and then watched while Olivia and Serena climbed into bed.

    'Coming to bed, Daddy?" Serena asked, snuggling under the blankets.

    "Move over, Bunny, so I can have some room," Curtis told her.  He climbed back into bed and lay watching as his wife and daughters settled back into sleep.   Finally, he too drifted off asleep.


	8. Questions?

A SUDDEN CASE OF DÉJÀ VU  
  
Chapter 8  
  
8:35am  
  
Van Buren motioned Briscoe into her office and waited until he'd taken a seat. "I got a call yesterday that Steven had been hurt at school so I had to take him to the ER," she explained.  
  
"I heard you'd suddenly taken the day off. Is everything all right?"  
  
"Yes. Steven just needed a few stitches but it was awhile before he got taken care of. Did you talk to Rey?"  
  
"Only during the drive back to his place. He didn't say anything about Crestridge so I'm not sure how he took the news. Besides, you know how Rey doesn't always let you know what's going on his head," Briscoe reminded her.  
  
"I know. Well, when he comes back to work on Thursday, I plan to keep him at a desk for at least a week. Give him more of a chance for his rib to heal and makes sure he's fully recovered from the accident. I wouldn't want you both out on the streets and he either hurts himself trying to apprehend somebody or he's driving and gets dizzy."  
  
"It's probably a good idea but 'you' tell Rey that. All I'm gonna do is make sure that he gets here Thursday morning," Briscoe said, getting to his feet.  
  
"You two have a falling out?" she asked, shaking her head.  
  
"I guess you could say that," he replied, pausing at the door. "I know he's not feeling his usual self right now."  
  
11:05am  
  
"Come on, I don't wanna be late," Serena was saying as she picked up her book bag. "Where's my purple fish? I need him for 'purple' day."  
  
"I've got it, Bunny. We have plenty of time," Curtis assured her. He handed her the stuffed toy. Then he started to help Isabel on with her jacket.  
  
"Can I have some ice cream?" Serena asked suddenly.  
  
"Only if you promise to eat all your lunch first," Deborah told her. She picked up her purse and keys. "Everybody ready?"  
  
"I yam," Isabel announced.  
  
"Good girl," Curtis told her. He carried her out to the car and buckled her in the car seat.  
  
"I can do that myself," Serena said, getting in beside her sister.  
  
"Okay," her father replied. He made sure she was firmly bucked in before getting in the front seat.  
  
"Where to?" Deborah asked, starting the car.  
  
"Capt'n Andy's," Serena said. "It has the 'best' toys."  
  
"Capt'n Andy's it is then," Curtis said. He looked at Deborah. "Don't forget to get something for Olivia."  
  
Fifteen minutes later Deborah drove into the parking lot of the family restaurant. Even at the early your, the spaces closest to the building were taken. Finally locating an empty spot, she pulled in before someone else could take it. "Rey, you help Isabel. Serena, you need to leave 'Mr. Fishy' in the car," she said, opening the door.  
  
"He'll be okay until you get back, Bunny," Curtis said, getting Isabel out of her car seat.  
  
Inside the restaurant, a smiling young woman asked, "How many?"  
  
"Four," Curtis replied.  
  
"Smoking or non-smoking?" She grabbed the menus and two paper sailor hats.  
  
"Non-smoking," Deborah was quick to tell her.  
  
"Follow me please." She led the way to a table over looking the play area. "Your server will get your drink orders in a couple of minutes."  
  
"Thank you," Curtis said. He settled Isabel into the childrens' seat.  
  
Serena pulled on one of the hats and opened the children's menu, studying the pictures. "I wonder what the toy is today?"  
  
"You'll find out," Deborah said. She handed Isabel her hat and then opened the menu. "How about the children's plate?"  
  
"Fish sticks?" Isabel asked.  
  
"Yes, fish sticks and ketchup. And some corn and French fries," Deborah told her.  
  
"Hi, I'm Silla and I'll be your server today," a young woman said. She handed a blue beanbag fish to Serena and a purple one to Isabel. "What would you like to drink? She took out her notebook.  
  
"Two milks. I'll have an ice tea with lemon and sweetener. What about you, Rey?" Deborah asked.  
  
Isabel began crying. Serena had grabbed the purple fish saying, "He's mine! He looks just like Mr. Fishy."  
  
"Serena Maria Curtis, you will give Isabel back the purple fish and apologize. We'll decide if you get to keep the blue one," Curtis told her sternly. He handed Deborah the blue fish to put in her purse.  
  
Serena pouted but did as told. "I'm sorry, Isabel. You keep purple," she said quickly.  
  
"That's better, Bunny," Curtis told her. He turned to Silla. "Sorry about this. I'll have an iced tea also, the same as my wife's."  
  
"It'll be just a few minutes, she replied, writing down his order.  
  
"Can I go outside and play?" Serena asked.  
  
"Not in your school clothes," Deborah told her. She studied the menu. "I think I'll have the fish and chicken platter."  
  
"Sounds good to me," Curtis decided. He looked at Isabel playing with her fish. "Do you think Olivia might like a green one?"  
  
Here are your drinks," Silla returned a minute later with the milks and tea. "Are you ready to order now?"  
  
"Yes, we are. We'll have two childrens' plates and two fish and chicken platters. Extra tarter sauce please," he told her.  
  
"Yes, sir," Silla said, writing down their orders.  
  
"It's lucky that we missed getting any storm damage. I noticed that the Kellermans had a tree down in their yard, Deborah commented stirring more sweetener into her tea.  
  
"Yeah. I'm just glad the lightning didn't get the computer," Curtis told her.  
  
"Or the TV," Serena added.  
  
"Then we couldn't rent any more movies," Curtis told her.  
  
"No more 'Sesame Stweet'?" Isabel asked.  
  
"You can watch 'Sesame Street' and 'Barney tomorrow," Curtis assured her.  
  
"Sing the Barney song," Isabel told him.  
  
"Not right now," Curtis told her. "I will on the way home."  
  
"Promise?"  
  
"Promise."  
  
Sillia returned with their meals. After saying a quick prayer Curtis made sure that Isabel had plenty of napkins since she had a tendency to get ketchup everywhere. Seeing that both girls were doing okay, he and Deborah started in on their own food.  
  
"All done. Can I have ice cream now?" Serena announced after a few minutes.  
  
"Let's let everybody finish eating first,' Curtis suggested. He grabbed a napkin to wipe ketchup off Isabel's face. "You're really making a mess today."  
  
"Sorry," Isabel said, reaching for another fish stick.  
  
"When everybody had finished eating, Deborah picked up the dessert menu. "How about a chocolate ice cream cone?" she suggested to Serena.  
  
"My favorite. Can I get two scoops?" Serena asked.  
  
Deborah exchanged glances with Curtis before replying. "All right, you did finish everything on your plate."  
  
"I want choc ate," Isabel said.  
  
"Chocolate for everybody? Is that what you want?" Curtis asked Deborah.  
  
"I'll have the same thing," she decided.  
  
Silla returned, refilling the tea glasses. "Do you wish to order anything else?"  
  
"Yes. We'll four chocolate ice cream cones, one a double scoop," Curtis told her.  
  
"With or without sprinkles?"  
  
"Sprinkles," Serena immediately spoke up.  
  
"I think that answered your question," he told Silla.  
  
She smiled and said, "I think it does. I'll be back in a few minutes with your ice cream."  
  
"While we're waiting for the ice cream, I'll go get Olivia a fish for her beanbag collection," Curtis said. He walked over to where a display of beanbag sea life was for sale. Selecting a green fish that matched the others, he paid for it and returned to his seat.  
  
Silla arrived with the ice cream cones and the check. "Just pay at the register," she told them.  
  
"Thank you,' Curtis told her. He shook his head in dismay and amusement at Isabel getting chocolate ice cream all over her face.  
  
"While you're paying, I'll take the girls to the restroom and get them cleaned up," Deborah told him.  
  
"I don't need cleaned up," Serena protested.  
  
"Okay, Bunny. You can stay with me," Curtis told her. "Just make sure you wipe every bit of ice cream off your face." He finished munching his cone.  
  
"I wish you could take us to lunch everyday," Serena said wistfully once Isabel and Deborah had headed for the restroom.  
  
"And not have your mother cook? I'd like to do that, Bunny. But, unfortunately I have a job I have to be at." Curtis told her.  
  
"You're only home now because of the accident?" Serena asked.  
  
"Yeah. Something like that. Tomorrow I need to go to court and then Thursday I'll back at work," he replied, handing her the sack with the green fish. "Come on, we'd better pay for the meal." He placed some money on the table.  
  
"Is Uncle Lennie worried about the accident? Serena asked  
  
"Something like that. How'd you find out?"  
  
"I heard you and him talking Sunday." Serena admitted.  
  
"Listening in on what doesn't concern you. There's a reason we don't tell you 'everything'," Curtis told her.  
  
"Next stop, school," Deborah said, once everybody was in the car."  
  
"I want to go to school," Isabel spoke up.  
  
"You're too little. Babies 'don't' go to school," Serena said importantly.  
  
"I'm 'no' baby!" Isabel protested.  
  
"No, you're not a baby. You're just the right size for your age," Curtis tried to placate her.  
  
As soon as Serena was dropped off at school, Isabel said, "Barney song."  
  
"Okay, I did promise," he told her. "I love you, you love me."  
  
"We're a happy family," Deborah joined in.  
  
1 Wednesday November 19  
  
4:12am  
  
Deborah awakened in the middle of the night to find the bed empty except for her. "Rey?' Looking over at the bathroom, she noticed the door open and the light out. She sighed and reached for her robe, knowing where she'd probably find him.  
  
Curtis was in his study, sitting at the computer, playing Tetris. Hearing footsteps approach, he asked, "Deborah, what are you doing up this time of night?"  
  
"I might ask you the same thing. Can't sleep?" she asked, putting her hands on his shoulders.  
  
"Yeah," he replied, eyes on his game.  
  
"Concerned about testifying?" Deborah asked.  
  
"Something like that. It's not my favorite part of being a cop." He looked up at Deborah. "What if I'm going back to soon? What if I get dizzy while I'm driving?"  
  
"You can let Lennie drive. Come on back to bed, Rey," she said gently.  
  
"Just let me finish this game," he told her, although his mind wasn't really on it.  
  
"You're game's over," Deborah said firmly, taking the mouse and clicking 'exit'. She took his hands and pulled him to his feet. "I'll let you sleep while I get the girls ready. I called Kitty to watch Isabel while I take you to court."  
  
"All right," Curtis said, allowing her to lead him back to the bedroom. He lay down beside her and she wrapped her arms around him. But, sleep was still a long time coming  
  
10:45am  
  
"Call me when you get finished, Rey," Deborah said, giving him a kiss as he got out of the car.  
  
"I will, Sweetheart," Curtis said, returning the kiss. He straightened his jacket and headed inside the courts building. Taking the elevator up to the third floor, he entered the courtroom and quietly took a seat on the prosecution side. Looking around, he noticed that Briscoe had taken a seat in the back of the room.  
  
McCoy had just finished with one of the forensic experts. "No further questions," he said and took his seat, letting the defense attorney take over questioning. Glancing back at Curtis, he nodded, silently acknowledging his presence.  
  
After fifteen minutes of questioning the forensic expert, the defense attorney said, "I'm finished with this witness."  
  
"Have you anybody else, Mr. McCoy?" Judge Phillips asked.  
  
McCoy stood up. "Yes, I call Detective Curtis to the stand."  
  
"Swear in the witness," the judge ordered.  
  
Curtis took his seat in the witness stand and placed his left hand on the Bible as he was asked, "Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth? "  
  
"I do," he replied.  
  
"State your full name and occupation for the record."  
  
"Reynaldo Curtis. I'm a detective with the New York City police department."  
  
McCoy began his questioning. "Detective Curtis, on the afternoon of June 24, what were you doing on Neal Bayland's property?"  
  
"We were investigating a homicide. Neal Bayland had been the last person to see Debra Harris before her body was found. Since it was a fact that she and Bayland knew each other, my partner Detective Briscoe and I obtained a search warrant for his property," Curtis answered.  
  
"Where were you when you discovered the body of Mary Spangler?"  
  
"In the basement. Detective Briscoe and I were searching different areas of the house. I noticed a bathroom door open with the light on. When I looked in I discovered a woman's body, partially clothed. She was lying in the bathtub."  
  
"What did you do then?" McCoy continued.  
  
"I immediately went to get Detective Briscoe and call for a crime scene unit," Curtis told him.  
  
"Where was Neal Bayland at this time?"  
  
"He was upstairs in the living room during the search."  
  
"No further questions," McCoy told the judge.  
  
The defense attorney took over the questioning. "Detective Curtis, isn't it true that the bathroom door was in fact closed and you 'had' to open it?"  
  
"It was closed," Curtis firmly stated.  
  
"You saw a woman in the bathtub? Perhaps she'd just fallen asleep while bathing?"  
  
"She still had her underwear on."  
  
"I see. So you assumed she was dead?"  
  
"I could tell she wasn't breathing," Curtis answered.  
  
"Why didn't you call 911? Try to resuscitate her yourself?" the defense attorney persisted.  
  
"I could tell that it was too late "  
  
"Is that your expert opinion?"  
  
"It is as a homicide detective," Curtis answered.  
  
"I have no further questions for this witness," the defense attorney told the judge.  
  
"Very well the witness is excused," Judge Phillips stated. "Court is adjourned until 1:00 for lunch."  
  
"All rise," the bailiff instructed.  
  
Everybody stood up while the judge made her way to her chambers. McCoy turned to Curtis and said, "Case is going our way. Nadine Bailey doesn't have much to go on. She tried to get your testimony suppressed. I know she was trying to trip you up."  
  
"Well, she didn't succeed. Are you going need me anymore today?" Curtis asked.  
  
"I don't think so. Don't you go back to work tomorrow?" McCoy asked.  
  
"Yeah. Mainly deskwork until Van Buren says I can get back on the streets with Lennie. I think he's missing my company," Curtis replied smiling slightly.  
  
"Who says I am?" Briscoe asked as he approached them. "Nice job, Rey. Hey, wanna grab some lunch?"  
  
"I told Deborah I'd call her as soon as I got through with testifying," Curtis answered.  
  
"You can call her later. "Come on, it's my treat. But I'll let 'you' pick the place," Briscoe said.  
  
"Gee, Lennie, you'll actually go someplace where they serve healthy food?" Curtis asked in mock amazement.  
  
"I'll see you both later," McCoy told them as he and Jamie headed for the door.  
  
"Who knows, I just might like it," Briscoe joked as he and Curtis headed for the elevator.  
  
6:33pm  
  
Olivia was sprawled on the living room carpet, the Christmas catalog in front of her. "Barbie has the neatest stuff this year," she commented.  
  
"Hinting on what you want for Christmas?" Curtis asked, picking up the catalog.  
  
"Something new for Barbie," Olivia replied.  
  
"You want Barbie accessories, Isabel wants the latest Barney and Serena wants an ant farm. By Christmas time, who knows what else you'll want," Curtis commented. He handed her back the catalog. "Did you finish your homework?"  
  
"Yes, Daddy," Olivia replied and went back to looking at the catalog. 


End file.
